Justice for the Blind
by WargishBoromirFan
Summary: Spoilers for 108: After the Promised Day, Edward has some arrangements to make before he can quit the military in front of Mustang's eyes.


A/N: I don't own them, Arakawa does. This was inspired by a mix of Brotherhood, manga, and "The Blind Leading the Lame" by Sevlow, set approximately a month or so after the Promised Day.

(As shameless advertising for my "Blues" readers: I ain't dead, but my Wolf's Rain muses have been pushed back by another group of shapeshifters as well as the MSA. Next chapter is halfway done and rolling along, barring guerilla plotbunny attacks from certain blonde bears...)

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><p>It was time.<p>

Havoc sat just beyond the circle, insisting that he needed one final smoke before Mustang and the Elrics did who-knew-what to his spine. Knox leaned near the ginger-blond's wheelchair, sharing from his pack as Edward fiddled with the final design, Alphonse attempting to add in his own suggestions over his brother's shoulder. Mostly, Edward brushed him off, grousing that he knew that already and Al would be better off sleeping instead of gnawing on the details of yet another of Colonel Bastard's harebrained schemes.

Alphonse had tried to rise out of his seat once. His elder brother pushed him back into the wheelchair before he could get within falling distance of the array. Roy could practically hear the thing roll backward. "Don't touch that."

Ed had insisted that Al didn't even need to be here. Marcoh had looked it over before returning to his patients, and just because Ed couldn't activate the circle didn't mean he didn't know about how it should look. Technically, Roy could do this without a circle, even, but he wanted to do this as efficiently as possible.

"You know we're going to have to redraw half of this," Ed grumbled, doubtlessly shooting Havoc a dirty look. Roy had heard that particular tone of displeasure aimed at himself often enough.

"You'd have to redraw it if ash fell into the lines, too, and I'm not going into that circle without something to steady my nerves. If you were so worried about it, you overzealous alchemy nuts could wait to draw it 'til I was done." Roy heard the squeak as Jean leaned back against the padded back.

Truthfully, it wasn't just about efficiency. Mustang wanted to do this right, as did Ed, Al, and Marcoh, even if they wouldn't breathe a word of that to the colonel. Marcoh had drawn the lines, argued with Edward, then gone over them again with his hand on Mustang's as he retraced their final design, guiding Roy through every detail that he and Edward had discussed and given the blind soldier a chance to weigh in on before the old doctor excused himself. No one had to mention that they had more experience than Roy with human transmutation. Neither wanted to bring it up, or inform the third human transmutation expert in the hospital.

Al had shown up anyway, pushed into the room by someone whose robes rustled as he exchanged a few words with the retreating doctor. Tim Marcoh was not one that Roy would ever describe as "reverent," and if the elder alchemist was always polite and respectful, there were few people that he actually held in awe.

"Mister Elric here threatened to inform my former apprentice, which I doubt would be very good for his recovery," the new arrival apologized to Al's much less respectful brother. Roy had heard that accent before, but it been nearly a decade now. Riza Hawkeye had held herself back from the circle, stoic as a silent stone, but he could hear her change in breathing from across the room.

"Yes, I believe he has enough shocks awaiting him," Marcoh agreed. "Will you, at least, accept our desire to help?"

There was the slosh of a miniscule bottle passing between hands. "We must all put our lives into improving the country. Good luck, doctor."

Havoc and Knox had arrived before Ed and Roy could convince Alphonse to return to his room, and the youngest alchemist's benefactor left before Mustang discovered the man's name. Knox had broken out his pack upon arrival, not offering one to Jean until the door clicked shut behind him. The scent of smoke quickly overrode the chalk dust.

Which led to here. They had been preparing for this since the Promised Day, since the morning after the hidden laboratory, since Maes Hughes had turned to his buddy at a parade and planted the seeds of delusional hopeful grandeur in his ear. "Quit stalling and get in the circle, Havoc," Mustang drawled. "Even if you and Fullmetal scuff the floor beyond repair, I've got it in my head." He could see it there; he'd been poring over the elements of this particular circle long before he lost his sight. He couldn't make Jean's spine perfect, but it could be good enough. Just let him stand and Jean Havoc would find a way to walk along the path Mustang had set for them.

It was the second transmutation Mustang didn't feel right about. Havoc would have to work for his recovery, all his former commanding officer offered was a well-deserved chance. "Ready?"

Havoc swore from the center of the circle. "Shit, no, chief, but do it anyway."

Roy rolled the small vial Marcoh had handed him between his fingers before his sightless face, hardly caring that Edward and Alphonse would likely overhear his whispers if Ed ever shut up. "You probably can't understand me. You'd probably hate me if you could. You'd be justified; if you're not in there because of me it's because of someone like me. I don't know if you're better off in there or set loose, but if it helps, you'll get to return to Ishval through him and through me, and we're going to fix what we can, protect what's left. Because of you, your land, and ours, will have a better future."

He put his hands to the circle.

"Well? You need to go too, boss, or I'm not going to get up out of this chair." Havoc's voice sounded tight, disbelieving. Had it been enough? Better to cure one and learn to cope with the other.

"You should anyway, Havoc. I can live without sight."

"You shouldn't have to, Mustang." Edward pressed his fingertips into Roy's shoulder. The boy wasn't supposed to sound proud of him.

"We're all working together on this," his younger brother added. "All of us." Al hadn't missed Mustang's quiet plea, either.

Roy pressed both hands around the vial and blinked his watery eyes against afterimages of the reaction. "Colonel? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"You're shooting me the bird, Fullmetal. With both hands." Both flesh hands. He couldn't see well, but he could at least see that.

Ed grinned evilly. "I have waited so long to give you a proper resignation."

"And I've been eager to see it for a long time."


End file.
